Butterflies and Bad Hurts
by janedoe144
Summary: GC fic. Spoiler from jackpot. Finished!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. Author's Note: I work a rotating shift so I totally understand exhaustion. I also only date enough to keep people from thinking I'm weird. I love men. I just don't want one around all the time.  
  
Summary: What would make Grissom react so to the crime scene in Butterflied other than Sara? Where does he go when he knows he won't sleep and needs to talk?  
  
Rating: R (for later)  
  
Pairing(s): GC friendship, probably more later, and maybe NS  
  
Spoiler(s): Butterflied  
  
Gil Grissom was frustrated and completely exhausted. Weariness permeated every bone and muscle in his body. The dull throb of headache that had been his constant companion for the past twenty-four hours made him squint. When he blinked he was certain some unfriendly sprite had shoved cotton balls under his eyelids. He was slightly hoarse. His mouth was dry; he was shaky and a little nauseous from too much caffeine and not enough solid food. It was painful to move his head and he figured if he moved it too fast or too far in one direction, it would snap right off at the shoulders. The thought of his head rolling around on the interrogation room floor sent a perverse jolt of humor through his numb mind.  
  
He and Brass sat in silence in the interrogation room, completely unaware they were being observed. Brass sighed heavily and settled his gaze on his companion. Grissom had finally stirred from his gnomic reverie at the end of the interrogation, insinuating he and the doctor had something in common. Brass knew Grissom was convinced of the doctor's guilt but had no way to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.  
  
"I think we ought to call it a night, Gris. I'd say let's go have a drink but I don't think you need to be in any worse shape than you already are." Brass flatly stated.  
  
"Yeah, I've had enough." Grissom replied.  
  
The two men made their way out of the police station and into the glaring morning light. They paused in front of Grissom's Denali. Grissom fished his sunglasses out of his pocket; he put them on and stared into the distance. Brass studied him for a moment.  
  
"You think you'll find anything else?" He queried.  
  
Grissom shrugged in response. He got in the Denali and drove away. He was waiting at the second stoplight when he decided he did not want to be alone at present. Instead of turning left toward his townhouse, he proceeded through the intersection and turned right at the next light. 


	2. Refuge

Catherine Willows was finishing a snack before going to bed when her doorbell rang. She was surprised to see Grissom standing before her door. "Is he ever gonna get any rest?" She thought with a certain amount of exasperation as she opened the door.  
  
"Hey." She said.  
  
"Hey." He replied.  
  
She stepped back and held the door open. "You gonna come in?" She prompted when he made no move to enter. He stepped into the house and headed for the kitchen as she shut the door. She followed him to the kitchen, leaned against the doorframe and watched him pull a bottle of scotch from the paper bag he was carrying. He opened the cabinet door and retrieved a tumbler.  
  
"What's up?" She inquired.  
  
"I wanted some company and a good stiff drink." He said as he filled the tumbler half full.  
  
"There's no way I'm lettin' you drive after you drink that." She informed him. He shrugged and took a sip of scotch. She stepped close to him and quickly stripped him of his pager and cell phone. She shut them both off.  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at her actions. "Join Me?"  
  
"I prefer vodka. Go sit. I'll fix myself a screwdriver." She replied.  
  
She sat her drink on the coffee table and sat down close to him on the sofa. She propped her head on her arm and watched him. They said nothing for a while. Catherine knew he wanted to open up, share what was bothering him but it would only come out when he was ready so she would wait. He sipped his scotch and she thought about their relationship. They depended on each other. They ran to each other when things were rough and one or the other needed comfort. They had come so close to taking it a step further so many times.  
  
"I didn't want to be alone." He said at last.  
  
"I take it you didn't get anything during the interrogation." Catherine stated. She was certain there was more bothering him about this case than the fact that the victim was Sara's doppelganger.  
  
"No." He responded. She began to gently stroke his cheek. He moved closer to her, slowly, until his forehead was resting against her neck. She began to idly stroke his hair.  
  
"You want to tell me why this is tearing you up so much?" She asked. 


	3. Bad Hurt

Catherine was starting to think he wasn't going to open up. He began tracing patterns on her bare knee. She placed a few soft kisses on the top of his head and waited a little longer.  
  
"I was in love once." He began. His mind slipped off to a time when the relentless trials of life hadn't intruded on youthful idealism. "She was beautiful in her own way, intelligent and witty. Her name was Elizabeth; everyone called her Liz. She was a detective for the LAPD. We met at an autopsy. I had just become coroner. I was attracted but it wasn't appropriate. Time went by and we started to see each other away from work. She loved butterflies; most of my collection came from that time. Eventually, we ended up in bed. We kept it quiet. Mainly because she was twelve years older than me."  
  
He finished his scotch and placed the empty tumbler on the coffee table beside Catherine's untouched screwdriver. He wrapped an arm around her and nestled against her. She placed more soft kisses in his hair. He began the pattern trace again, this time on her thigh. It was something between a figure eight and triangles; perhaps it was his rendition of butterflies.  
  
"One night I got a call to pick up bodies at a convenience store robbery gone wrong. One of the bodies was Liz. She had stopped to pick up cigarettes and a nervous kid holding up the store shot her when he saw the gun under her blazer. He shot the store clerk and fled. He didn't even take the money."  
  
I'm so sorry, Gil." Catherine murmured.  
  
"She was slumped over, kind of propped up against the counter. Her forehead was in a pool of blood on the floor. He shot her in the neck." He stopped speaking for a time, reliving the long ago horror, then restarted. "It was like seeing it all over again. Then I realized how much the victim looked like Sara."  
  
"Is Sara like her?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Not really, but occasionally she wears the same scent." He replied.  
  
"Sara wears perfume?" Catherine was surprised. She seldom wore perfume and she knew Grissom didn't wear cologne. It tended to interfere with the job. Sometimes scents were vital clues at crime scenes.  
  
"I'm not sure it's perfume, maybe lotion or body wash. It was more noticeable when she first started here before she quit smoking. It might have been perfume then." Grissom pondered. "I never really gave it much thought. In fact, it took me a while to recognize the scent. Sometimes I think she has a mannerism or two like Liz but maybe I'm projecting."  
  
Catherine knew he was close to falling asleep. When he said no more for a few minutes, she decided it was time to get him in bed before he passed out and she couldn't move him. Once he was finally down, he was gonna be out for awhile.  
  
"Hey, let's get you in bed." She stood up, took his hand and led him upstairs. When he hadn't started to undress after she turned the covers of her bed down; she pulled his shirt out of his trousers and started unbuttoning it. He let her unbutton it all the way before brushing her off and telling her he could undress himself.  
  
"Okay, you want some Motrin? You've gotta have a killer headache." She inquired. He nodded. While she was getting the pills and some water, he finished undressing and got in bed. After he swallowed the pills and sipped some water, he just stared at her. He looked so pitiful. She ruffled his hair.  
  
"I could rub your neck and shoulders." She offered.  
  
"How about staying with me 'til I go to sleep?" He countered.  
  
"I can do that." She cuddled close to him.  
  
He was quiet for awhile then he said. "You know, I think I've spent the past twenty years falling for women who were either unattainable or I knew I didn't really want because it was safe. I dated just enough so people wouldn't think I was weird."  
  
Catherine propped herself up and looked into his heavy-lidded eyes. "I've always thought that about you. Tell me, Mister, Do you think you're safe now?" She tapped a playful finger against his chin.  
  
Umm, Maybe I don't want to be safe anymore." He replied. With that he rolled over and snuggled his face into her neck. Her eyes widened when he started to lick, then nibble and finally suck her neck. She wasn't quite sure what to do or how to take this but after a minute or so he solved the whole situation by finally crashing into deep sleep. 


	4. Night Off

Catherine woke up several hours later. Gil was spooned against her. His face was buried in her hair. It felt nice. She enjoyed it for a few minutes, listened to his steady deep breathing. She looked at the clock and knew she had to get up. Lindsey would be home soon.  
  
It was 8 p.m. before she knew it. Grissom was still sleeping. When he did wake, he would feel terrible. It was her night off so someone needed to take shift. She considered whom to call and settled on Warrick. She trusted him.  
  
She got Lindsey tucked in and sat on the sofa flipping channels. She ended up on one of the many news magazine shows. She wasn't particularly interested in the stories portrayed with so much drama and angst by flashy reporters. She turned the volume down and allowed her mind to wander back to the story Gil told her.  
  
She wondered if Sara resembles Liz. She suspected not, because he usually went for blonde or light brown hair and blue or green eyes. But, then again, maybe that was another avoidance reaction. Avoidance is one of his strong suits.  
  
Generally, the women he dated volunteered very little about their relationship with him. The one who had confided in Catherine concerning her brief affair with him basically said "He's great in the sack but; otherwise, not much is there. He's so closed off. You know him better than I do."  
  
She considered the last words he said. "Maybe I don't want to be safe anymore." Was it the subconscious rambling of a mind that had been awake too long coupled with a healthy dose of alcohol or was he telling her he truly wanted more, with her. She could still feel his mouth on her neck; yet, he had left no mark. She rubbed her neck where his mouth had been. She could swear it still felt warm. Letterman was counting down the top ten list when Grissom finally stumbled down the stairs.  
  
"Who's got shift?" He croaked.  
  
"Warrick. I'll start some coffee. Headache?" She asked. He nodded. "Sit. I'll be right back."  
  
She had the coffeepot ready to go. She pushed the brew button. She drew a glass of water, picked up the bottle of Motrin, and headed back to living room. He swallowed a couple of pills, sipped some water and sat back. Catherine watched him until the coffee was finished, then brought him a cup with cream and sugar in it. Black coffee on a stomach that had been empty too long was just inviting trouble. She had selected a nice mild breakfast blend.  
  
"I found that duffle in your Denali. Why don't you get a shower? I'll fix you some soup." Catherine indicated a bag on the floor in which Grissom had some spare clothes stowed.  
  
After his shower they sat at the kitchen table. He slowly ate soup, an occasional cracker and drank more coffee. Catherine sipped coffee. When the soup was finished he stretched and rolled his neck and shoulders in a futile effort to work out the kinks.  
  
"I don't suppose I could get that neck massage now, could I?" He asked.  
  
"Maybe." She answered.  
  
They settled on the sofa. Some infomercial was on so Grissom located the remote and flipped on the Discovery Channel. It was a show about ancient Greece, fairly satisfactory, so he settled against her to enjoy the neck and shoulder massage. When her hands began to tire, she stopped then realized he had fallen asleep. She arranged a pillow more comfortably behind her head and drifted off to sleep as some archeologist rambled on about the Parthenon and mythology. 


	5. Night Off, part two

She woke up startled some time later. She realized it was Grissom in the kitchen. She got up to see what he was doing. He was backing out of the refrigerator with all the accoutrements for making a sandwich gathered in his arms when he noticed her.  
  
"I woke up starving. I thought I'd have a sandwich. You want one?" He offered.  
  
"Yeah, sounds good." She replied. It was intriguing to watch him build the sandwiches. She usually slapped meat, cheese and lettuce on some bread. He toasted the bread; put ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce on it then carefully added tomato slices, pickles, onion and black olives. He paused for a moment and gazed at the refrigerator. She could practically see the wheels turning, certain his internal debate centered on whether or not it would be worth the wait to fix some bacon and make it a real club sandwich. She went to the refrigerator, retrieved a package of bacon bits and handed it to him with a slight smirk. A little 'you caught me' smile played around his lips as he shook some bits on each sandwich.  
  
Once again they were seated at her kitchen table, this time enjoying a sandwich together in companionable silence. Catherine finished her sandwich and located a file from her manicure set to remedy a jagged edge on one of her nails.  
  
"Your nails are not polished." He observed.  
  
"Well, it's hard to play Harry Potter with wet nails." Catherine replied. "Linds loves that game you gave her for Christmas. I stripped my nails while she was doing her homework but I didn't have time to do the rest before she was ready to play."  
  
"Maybe I can play it with her tonight." He said. Catherine determined from this statement that he didn't intend to leave any time soon.  
  
She decided to test the waters. She had to proceed carefully, allow him no yes or no answers. "How, exactly, does Sara remind you of Liz?" She asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" He parried, reflexively attempting to steer the conversation toward yes or no answers.  
  
Catherine stopped filing and bestowed her best 'Don't fuck with me' look upon him. He was well acquainted with it, having received it numerous times before, so he chewed the inside corner of his mouth.  
  
"Well?" She prompted as she examined her nails. One was not shaped quite right so she resumed filing.  
  
"I'm thinking." He replied. After a time he concluded. "Sara is not much like Liz at all."  
  
"Does something else bother you about this case?" Catherine asked, instinctively sensing there was.  
  
"Yes." He answered, almost immediately. She stopped filing and carefully examined each nail again, waiting for him to continue. Satisfied with their appearance, she put the file away and began buffing.  
  
"I felt like the doctor and I had something in common in a way. Both middle-aged men, defined by their job, offered an opportunity for something different by someone young and beautiful. He took it and it ended in murder. It hit a nerve." He said.  
  
"You're referring to Sara asking you out." She stated. He nodded.  
  
"Why didn't you go out with her?" She probed, curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"It would have ended like every other relationship I've been in. I don't want to hurt her. Besides, I'm her supervisor and mentor, or was, I suppose. It just wouldn't be right. She's not what I want. I'm tired of repeating the same history." He responded.  
  
He rose and began putting the sandwich stuff away signaling the end of the conversation. She gathered the dishes from the table to place them in the dishwasher. She had just shut the dishwasher door when he stepped close to her. He ran the side of his thumb along her jaw then his finger down her neck and over her shoulder to the spaghetti strap of her top. He moved it aside and placed a soft kiss there. 


	6. feelings revealed

"Gil?" She was surprised by his bold move. They usually only kissed when they'd had a little too much to drink. If they were both drunk enough, it went further but it always stopped just short of sex.  
  
"Mmmm?" Was all the response she received, he brushed his lips along her shoulder to where her neck and shoulder joined. He placed a kiss there then rolled his tongue along the soft flesh of her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access.  
  
"Are you coming on to me?" She purred. She was getting turned on at this point.  
  
"What do you think?" He asked as he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer.  
  
"I think you are." She stated as the warmth of arousal spread over her body.  
  
"And, how do you feel about that?" His kisses became more insistent along her neck and up to her ear.  
  
"I think I like it." She responded. She was definitely feeling the heat.  
  
"You think or do you know?" He whispered in her ear. He stopped his ministrations and looked into her eyes.  
  
"Okay, I know I like it. I just, ah, why now?" She mentally slapped herself, certain she had ruined the moment. He raised his hand, placed it along the side of her face, one finger rubbing under her earlobe, and caressed her cheek softly with his thumb. He realized; in that moment, he was preparing to bare his soul.  
  
"Why is it that we can only touch one another when we're hurting a little too much or we're a little too drunk. Why do we only go only so far? Why do I want to make love to you so much I physically ache? Why do I know, deep down, you feel the same way?" He asked.  
  
"Because, neither of us wants to ruin a very special relationship. And, because, I think, neither of us is really sure what we want." She said.  
  
"Perhaps, I know what I want. Perhaps, I've been too afraid. Afraid you wouldn't feel the same way. In my mind, we are so much more than a fling or mere physical gratification." He paused for a spell but to her it was spellbinding. "You know, when I was off in Jackpot, they thought you were my wife. Why didn't I correct them? I've analyzed it over and over. I came to this conclusion. We're so comfortable. I have this sense of belonging to someone and of someone belonging to me. I showed them your picture. The one you gave me of you and Lindsey. They thought I was a lucky guy. To them, I had a beautiful wife and daughter. I liked it. We've sort of puttered around for so long. Now, I'm afraid of loosing something I may never have had in the first place. But, I think I had it. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" Her reply was a soul- searching kiss. 


	7. at last

"There's no turning back now." He thought. He scooped her up in his arms and started out of the kitchen.  
  
"Uh, hey, the coffee pot." She said. He realized she wanted it turned off.  
  
"Well, I seem to have my hands full." He playfully replied, backed up and let her reach over to click it off. He had no intention of setting her down until they reached the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him an expectant smile. He headed out of the kitchen, across the living room and started up the stairs. His left knee popped loudly on the fourth step and sent a twinge of pain shooting up his thigh.  
  
"Maybe you should put me down." She suggested, thinking it would really stink if this abruptly ended due to a knee injury.  
  
"I'm fine. Happens all the time." He countered. "Besides, we're almost there." He stopped just inside the bedroom door so she could shut it. A nightlight near the bathroom door was the only illumination in the dark room. "I think, we need candle light." He whispered in her ear.  
  
"I can arrange that, if you put me down." She said. He reluctantly complied. She retrieved matches from the bedside table, lit a candle on one side of the bed, two more on the other side and a couple on the dresser. "Satisfactory?" She inquired.  
  
"Quite." He replied after inspecting the level of light in the room.  
  
She dropped the matches on the dresser and was kicking off her slippers as he approached her. He placed his hands on her hips. She settled hers on his arms. They kissed long and slow; exploring one another like never before. They pressed against each other. She could feel him, hard and throbbing through the fabric of their clothing. She slipped her hands down to slide his shirt up his chest. He caught it halfway up, shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor. He caught the spaghetti straps of her top and pulled them down her shoulders to reveal the tops of her breasts. He began kissing along her collarbone, sliding his tongue out to lick at the swell of her breast. She was intent on sliding her hands up his chest but was hindered by the confines of her top. He slid it further down, past her elbows and she freed herself. He captured a nipple in his mouth. She moaned and arched upward, tangling her fingers in his hair. He caressed her back, slid his hands down her body, pausing to squeeze her ass, caught her upper thighs and carried her to the bed. He wanted to see her naked so he tugged the top and her light cotton lounge pants off at the same time.  
  
He was about to join her on the bed when she sat up and stopped him. She unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. She stroked him through his boxers and a guttural moan escaped his throat. She smiled as she slid his jeans down his thighs then freed him of his boxers. He stepped out of them and placed one knee between her thighs on the bed but stopped again when she grasped his cock, squeezed then lightly stroked him. He thought he might pass out when she rolled her tongue around the tip then gently sucked him.  
  
"Catherine, you have to stop that." He huskily grated out.  
  
"Can't take it?" She asked with a giggle, sliding her thumb down the sensitive underside of his length.  
  
"Maybe, later." He whispered suppressing a groan. They scrambled to the middle of the bed to resume kissing and caressing. He wanted to go slow, enjoy every moment and explore every inch of her but the need was too intense for both of them. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he soon found he was thrusting into her. He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, only respond to her urgings of faster and harder. She arched against him, called his name and ground against him as she climaxed. He buried his face into her neck; every muscle in his body seemed to contract as with one final deep thrust he exploded inside her.  
  
"God, that was good." Catherine murmured kissing his sweaty forehead. "No, stay for a bit." She whispered when he began to move off her.  
  
"I must be crushing you." He replied and weakly propped himself up on his forearms.  
  
"Umm, it's a good kind of crush." She responded and slid her hands up his back. Rivulets of sweat slid down his ribs from her movement. More long, slow deep kisses followed until she was ready to release him. He flopped onto his back. They cuddled up and he said as sleep overtook him. "We'll have to talk about this later."  
  
"Yeah. Later." She drifted off to sleep. 


	8. round two

Catherine woke up tangled in Gil's embrace. She peered at the clock by the bed. "7:25 AM. I've gotta get Lindsey off to school!"  
  
She scurried around, throwing on clothes, and woke Lindsey. "Time to get up, sweetie. You've got to hurry!" She said and rushed downstairs to prepare some breakfast and lunch for her baby.  
  
Lindsey just made it to the corner in time to catch the school bus. Catherine watched from the front door as she mounted the steps. She leaned against the doorframe and let her thoughts drift back to the man sleeping in her bed upstairs. She wondered if she dared wake him for 'Round Two', worried he might change his mind and flee. Could this be Grissom having a mid-life crisis? Most men dumped the family and went for the younger woman and fancy sports car, but Gil Grissom wasn't like 'most men'. "He would do it completely backward." She thought to herself. She started some laundry, and went to the kitchen, prepped the coffeepot then decided Round Two definitely needed to be on.  
  
He was lying on his stomach in the middle of the bed clutching a pillow. She stripped her clothes off, drew the sheet off him and admired the view. "God, what a fine ass! Where to start?" She thought. She lay on the bed beside him, propped up on one elbow and began caressing his back. She leisurely made her way down to his ass then his right thigh. She kissed him in the center of his lower back then slid her tongue slowly up his spine, past his shoulders to the back of his neck. He moved in his sleep, and ground his pelvis slightly into the bed, which brought a smile to her lips. She moved on top of him, rubbing her inner thigh against one ass cheek, and kissed the back of his neck and shoulder then made her way to his ear.  
  
"Umm, this is a nice way to be awakened." He mumbled as he rolled over.  
  
"Oh, good, now I get to do the other side." She said with a wicked little grin and began caressing and kissing his chest. He lazily slid his arms under the pillow to cradle his head up, stretched then closed his eyes and enjoyed her ministrations. She moved farther down his body, kissing and sucking at his skin until she reached his pelvic region. Instead of playing with his growing erection, as he anticipated, she caressed his inner thigh. She kissed and sucked the flesh there then slid her tongue along the crease between his thigh and groin careful not to touch him where she knew he wanted. He moaned and moved to allow her to repeat the action on the other thigh. He gasped then sighed when she finally took his throbbing cock in her mouth. For now, he was content to allow her to pleasure him however she wanted.  
  
When he was close climax and just couldn't take anymore, he eased up, positioned her astride his thighs and said. "My turn."  
  
"Well, aren't you being bossy." She replied and licked his lower lip then sucked on it.  
  
"You really like sucking on things, don't you?" He murmured, smiling against her mouth.  
  
"Yep, I do indeed." She kissed his chin.  
  
"Well, it so happens that I do too." He caught her lips in his, drew her tongue in his mouth and sucked on it.  
  
"I have some exploring to do of my own." He murmured then trailed kisses down her throat.  
  
"Really? Are you going on safari?" She asked.  
  
"Uh huh, to hills." He nuzzled a breast. "Valleys." He rubbed his bearded cheek between her breasts. "More hills." He nuzzled the other breast. "Peaks." He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked it gently. "Crevasses." He slipped a hand between her legs to stroke her. "Umm, what's that?" His fingers had found her clit; he stroked her lightly, eliciting a moan. "Must be a good place, I think it warrants further investigation." He deftly rolled them over until she was on her back beneath him. "Where was I?" He asked, gazing into her eyes.  
  
"Anywhere you want to be." She replied with a salacious smile.  
  
"Guess I'll have to start from the top." He mumbled. He placed a kiss on her forehead, each eyelid, her nose then they shared a long deep kiss. He rubbed his cheek against hers, nuzzled her neck and headed for her breasts. He kissed and suckled at one while gently massaging the other one. He slowly made his way down her body, eliciting moans as he went. He decided to 'do unto others' and repeated her treatment of his inner thighs. When she arched toward him, he decided further pleasant torture was in order and delved into her most private areas. He teased at her clit with the tip of his tongue until she cried out "Gil, God, Please!" Then he sucked her forcefully and slipped a finger inside her. She bucked beneath him. "Gil, Please!" She ground out.  
  
He couldn't wait any longer himself so he moved up her body and quickly plunged into her. She gasped, grasped his shoulders as they shared a searing kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips. Within minutes they were approaching the abyss of pleasure, she slid her hands down his back and grabbed his ass. He buried his face in her neck. She arched to meet his thrust, cried out his name and crashed over the edge. He followed her; his own orgasm heightened by her spasms.  
  
He collapsed on top of her. They lay there panting, trying to catch their breath and recover. "If I had known it would be this good, we would have been here along time ago." She whispered in his ear.  
  
"No kidding." He replied, still recovering. He rolled over and they cuddled close. He leafed his fingers through her hair.  
  
"We need to talk about this." He said.  
  
"What do we need to discuss?" She drowsily asked.  
  
"Well, I mean, this changes our relationship. I suppose I'm thinking about work. Should we act like nothing is going on? How do you want me to act?" He asked, pleasing her foremost in his mind.  
  
She propped up on an elbow and said. "Let's just go slow. Yes, try to act like nothing has changed. I don't think I want the kids to know until we've explored things a little and become comfortable. Okay?"  
  
"Yeah, that's good. Slow is good." He sleepily replied. 


	9. back at work

Warrick, Nick, Sara and Greg were sitting around the break room table when Grissom entered whistling a little tune. He was oblivious to the shocked looks and raised eyebrows of the majority of his staff. He ruffled through some of the paperwork and frowned. "Forgot those questionnaires." He mumbled. "I'll be right back."  
  
"Bets?" Nick exclaimed.  
  
"I think he got laid!" Greg said with a howl.  
  
"Me too!" Nick grinned.  
  
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Sara grumbled. She was already confused and now a little dismayed. It had been extremely disquieting to see someone who looked so much like her on the morgue slab. She had wanted to see the suspect. She had quietly slipped out of the CSI building and rushed to the police station when she overheard Catherine tell Warrick that Grissom and Brass were interrogating a suspect. It became more upsetting when she heard Grissom's final little speech to the suspect, certain he was referring to her. She went by his townhouse the following morning when he didn't come to work that night to find he wasn't home. Not at work and not at home, now she wondered where he had been and whom he had been with.  
  
Catherine entered the break room and headed straight for the coffeepot. She filled a cup then took a seat across from Warrick who, taking in the fact that she was wearing a turtleneck, smirked at her. She hid her own little grin by faking a cough.  
  
"Ah! Good, everybody's here." Grissom said as he returned and casually passed out the questionnaires. "Okay, this is the latest from Human Resources." He was pleased with himself that he managed not to modify it in any way with the word 'crap' which was what he thought most stuff from HR was. In fact, he was pleased with himself in a lot of ways. "We're all to fill these out, turn them in and we'll be assigned a color which is supposed to help us get along better."  
  
"How do we know what color we get?" Nick asked.  
  
"It's assigned from the responses on your questionnaire. You'll find out later." Grissom replied.  
  
"How are we supposed to know other people's color? I mean, this is kinda worthless if you don't know what color the guy is you're interacting with, right?" Warrick asked somewhat suspiciously.  
  
"I have no idea." Grissom responded but he expected something completely stupid.  
  
"Oh, God! They'll probably want us to wear little ribbons, or colored stars on our id's or some other ridiculous thing." Sara muttered.  
  
"Okay, that's out of the way. Greg what's your schedule like tonight?" He asked, moving on.  
  
"Most of the stuff I have is from dayshift. I've got autosamplers all loaded up so I just need to crunch data toward the end of shift." Greg replied. He'd been coming in early to free up time during his shift so he could get out in the field.  
  
"Good. This is a little b&e at a warehouse office. You take it. Warrick, you go along and supervise. Take over if he has to come back to the lab. Okay?"  
  
"You got it. Meet'cha at my ride in ten, Greg." Warrick said and headed for the locker room.  
  
"Sara and Nick, db at the Swaying Palms Apartment Complex. Brass is already there." He said as he handed over the file.  
  
"We're on it." They said in unison and departed.  
  
"What am I doing?" Catherine asked as the room emptied.  
  
"Help me with paperwork?" He asked with a little plea in his voice. "There's an avalanche on my desk. I'm in mortal fear of being crushed by it."  
  
"Well, in light of recent events, I certainly don't want you crushed to death by paperwork. However, I suspect I'm being taken advantage of." She replied.  
  
"That was this morning." He said softly, a little smile playing around his lips.  
  
"Yeah, Right. Let me go put my jacket up and get more coffee." She wanted to kiss that little smile right off his mouth but headed for the locker room instead.  
  
"Hey." She said to Warrick who was changing into a sweatshirt.  
  
"Hey." He chuckled.  
  
"What?" She demanded.  
  
"Oh, nothing. First, you call me to cover shift cause he's sleeping at your place and you have the night off. Then, Gris comes in whistling a little tune and you have on a turtleneck. Covering something up?" He inquired with an arched brow.  
  
"Yeah, beard burn. We're just trying to keep things quiet for awhile, Okay?" She pleaded.  
  
"You know my lips are sealed. This is cool. You guys finally got together." He departed whistling his own little tune.  
  
Finished! 


End file.
